


the waiting game.

by starsandskies



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Destiel - Freeform, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, One Shot, kissing everywhere, loads of kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-16
Updated: 2013-07-16
Packaged: 2017-12-20 09:18:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/885583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandskies/pseuds/starsandskies
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is so tired of waiting for his angel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	the waiting game.

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't help but write some destiel. It's my first destiel fic so I didn't want to make it too long or angsty. It's not really set in any season in particular but it's post-season five, I guess.

“He's not coming back,” Dean sighed wistfully, downing the last of his whiskey.

“You don't know that,” Sam spoke hopefully; “he might be taking a break.”

“A break? He's a goddamn angel, Sammy.”

“I'm just saying, he could be having some time away from all of this.”

“Oh, lucky him. When do we get a break from all this?” Dean snapped bitterly, looking away from his brother.

“Dean!” Sam chided, “ _we_ don't, that's the point. Without us, people would be dead. If we took a break, innocent people would die.”

“I know,” the older brother mumbled, “Cas just makes things a lot easier.”

Sam remained silent for the rest of the evening, not wanting to disrupt Dean's thoughts. Part of him hated Castiel for messing with his brother's head and making him dependent on him but the other part of him wanted to give Cas a pat on the back for making Dean feel something other than a strong sense of self-hatred and never being good enough. His brother deserved something good, something solid. If Castiel could be the one to give it to him then Sam really wasn’t complaining.

“I'm going to drive around for a bit, I'm sick of this room. You gonna be alright?” Dean asked, heading for the door.

“Yeah, go ahead,” Sam nodded, watching his brother leave before sighing heavily. He stood up and looked towards the heavens.

He licked his lips and began to pace around the room, “Cas, it's me. I know you're less likely to listen to me because of some bond or whatever but we need you. My brother needs you. He's miserable without you; he doesn't know why you're not answering his prayers. Just please, come back. All he's doing is drinking and god, he's getting on my nerves,” Sam gave a little chuckle, “just come back. Please.”

Truthfully, he felt a little foolish talking to nothing but an empty motel room, not even sure if the angel was listening, but he tried anyway. God knows how many times Dean's done the same before throwing his fist down in anger while vowing that he'd never pray again. Of course, that fell through the next morning.

Sam turned around, anticipating the hideous wallpaper patterns, but instead saw the angel they’d been praying to for days.

“Cas!” He exclaimed, walking over to him but keeping a respectable distance.

“Sam,” the angel nodded, “you called?”

“Yeah, I...yeah,” he breathed, surprised at Cas' calm exterior. “You've been gone for weeks, Cas. What's going on?”

“I've been...hiding,” the angel dipped his head, not looking Sam in the eye.

“Why? Dean's been calling you.”

“I know,” he spoke gruffly. “He's praying to me right now.”

Sam's chest ached as he sighed and rubbed his temples, “you should go see him.”

“I can't, Sam,” Castiel spoke lowly, his voice breaking towards the end.

Sam looked at him and widened his eyes, finding so many similarities between him and his brother. Cas looked broken and tired, something Dean had been for weeks.

“Yes you can. And I think you should, you owe him.”

Castiel looked up at Sam, drained, and sighed, feebly nodding.

*

“Cas, buddy? Can you hear me?” Dean Winchester was currently in his car with his forehead pressed against the steering wheel. He felt detached from reality, not sure whether or not this was real. He didn’t want this to be real. If it was real, it meant that Cas really had left him and that wasn’t something he wanted to face just yet. Not with Lucifer on their tail and everything going belly up.

Dean sighed, feeling lost, and got out of the car (carefully closing the door – he didn’t want to make matters worse by hurting his baby), “it’s been weeks, Cas. I-I’ve been calling you for weeks and you haven’t replied. I can’t do this alone, you know? Sam’s got enough on his plate and I’m scared that if he helps, he’ll break and I don’t know if I’ll be able to put him back together again. And I’m tired, Cas. I’m just so tired,” Dean chuckled humourlessly, placing his hands on the Impala’s hood, his voice mirthless, “you idiot.”

He swallowed hard and stared up at the night sky but only a few stars dotted the vast space of emptiness. “I trusted _you_ , Cas. I made damn sure that nothing happened to you and _this_ is how you repay me?” The hunter scoffed, shaking his head. He never did believe in angels. “I wanted to show you that I’m not the same man you hauled out of perdition, Cas. I’m different and god knows I’ve let myself feel. Cas...”

He repeated Cas’ name over and over again, the word sounding so familiar on his tongue, heavy yet free all at once. “We need you,” Dean shook his head, “no, _I_ need you, Castiel.”

He let the angel’s full name hang in the air and he didn’t say anything else, not for a long while. He just stared up at the sky, tears in his eyes. It didn’t understand how everything could be so peaceful when inside, he could barely keep it together. There was a full-blown war going on inside what was left of his soul – a thousand soldiers rampaging all at once. He couldn’t shake the feeling that someone was watching him, and the handprint on his shoulder began to burn – a white-hot pain that burned the back of his eyelids. Dean winced and gasped, leaning back against the Impala, clutching his arm, “Cas!”

He called him because that is what Dean Winchester did: call the angel when he couldn’t help himself. He called him when things were out of his control.

“Hello, Dean.” The angel appeared out of nowhere and locked eyes with his hunter, his face apologetic.

“You son of a bitch!” Dean swore, breathing heavily. He glanced at his angel and felt so angry. How dare he leave him? How dare he let him fall when he wasn’t there to catch him?

Castiel walked forward and placed a light hand on Dean’s shoulder, melting the pain away. “I’m sorry.”

“No, Cas. Don’t say it,” Dean choked out, lowering his gaze from the angel’s because he would surely surrender at his feet if he looked into his bright eyes.

“But I am, Dean. I’m sorry for not answering your prayers. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“Hurt me?” Dean scorned, “no, you didn’t hurt me.”

“Sam said –”

“You’ve seen Sam?” The hunter asked incredulously, looking up at Cas.

“I went to him before I came to you,” the angel admitted.

“Great, thanks for that,” Dean spoke sarcastically, feeling so much hurt and betrayal. He wasn’t jealous of his brother; he just wanted to be Castiel’s first call, his first everything.

“Was that sarcasm?” Castiel asked quietly.

Dean ignored him, “what else has Sam said? That I’m ‘hurting’ and I’m ‘a mess’ and that I’m so desperately in love with you that I can’t sleep at night? Is that what he’s said, Cas?” He spat, arching an eyebrow and looking at the angel with a hardened eyes.

“He’s worried about you, Dean. So am I.”

That only enraged Dean Winchester more.

“If you were so worried, where were you all this time? Why did you leave me to fight this on my own? I didn’t even know if you were alive, Cas! You could have been dead and then what, was I supposed to move on and just forget about you?”

“Dean –”

“No, I can’t keep doing this. Don’t you understand? I’m tired, Cas. Dog-tired.” Dean’s shoulders slumped and he shrunk in on himself, as if guarding himself from the angel’s penetrative stare. Tears gathered in his eyes and he blinked, sending them down his face. He swiped them away but felt more pool in his emerald eyes.

“Dean?” Castiel cocked his head to the side, hesitating before moving forward. He reached out to touch Dean, to offer him some sort of comfort (he knew humans liked physical touch) but the hunter stepped back, just out of reach of the angel’s fingertips.

“Don’t, Cas.”

And that was all the angel needed to tell Dean everything.

“I couldn’t see you, Dean. I wasn’t allowed to. They told me I couldn’t; otherwise I would lose my grace. I heard you pray, Dean. I heard you every single time but I couldn’t come to you. Please forgive me, Dean. Please,” Castiel pleaded, staring up at his hunter’s eyes, wanting to brush his thumb over the tear that had just fallen, wanted to tell him that he was sorry.

But right now, the angel thought that the hunter standing before him hated him.

“I really needed you, Cas,” Dean reiterated, his voice broken and hoarse, “I expected you to be there. More fool me, right?” He felt self-centered but he was too angry to care. He was sick of people letting him down when he was their constant; always there for people to dump on.

“Forgive me, Dean. I am truly sorry. But please understand, I had no choice. They forced me away from you no matter how much I wanted to see you,” Castiel remembered the painful memory of being strapped down to a chair, angels surrounding him, his grace threatened and his integrity to Dean mocked for what it was: pure.

_Us or them?_

_Us or **him**?_

“Cas, forget it. I’m done,” Dean replied sullenly, heading towards the driver’s seat of the Impala.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me, Dean Winchester,” the hunter halted, arching an eyebrow at the angel’s threatening tone. “Do you know how much I’ve sacrificed for you? I’ve lost everybody because of my loyalty to _you_ and your brother. The angels in Heaven laugh at me and mock me – I’m ridiculed because they know I don’t follow God’s orders anymore.”

_I follow yours, Dean Winchester. The man who gave the world his bones and received nothing in return._

Unspoken words hung in the air between the angel and the hunter and slowly, Dean walked forwards so he was standing toe-to-toe with Castiel.

“You don’t know what it’s like to want something so _bad_ , Cas,” Dean whispered, smoothing the angel’s askew collar down, a million and one indecent thoughts running through his head.

“Dean –”

The hunter silenced him, shaking his head. He tugged on his sleeve twice before releasing his trench coat and sliding into the Impala, waiting for the only angel who would willingly fall from grace for a man who stopped believing a long time ago.

Castiel looked around, unsure of what Dean wanted, but followed him nonetheless, shutting the Impala door softly before turning to face him.

“If Heaven’s stopped you from seeing me, how are you here?” Dean spoke lowly, his gaze flitting from Cas’ lips to his eyes back to his lips.

“I disobeyed,” Castiel replied, swallowing hard.

That was enough to make Dean Winchester lean forward, grab Castiel’s tie, and pull him closer. The hunter’s lips moved over the angel’s, demanding and hot, his fingernails digging into the back of the angel’s neck.  The kiss was wanton; heavy and wet and unrestrained, and Dean bit down on Cas’ lower lip and a small moan, barely audible, escaped from his mouth.

Dean pulled away and looked at him, stared at him until his face was engraved on the back of his eyelids, his breathing heavy and his hand still holding the nape of his neck. Cas opened his mouth to say something (probably protest) but the hunter didn’t allow it. Instead, he kissed along the angel’s jaw, down his neck, across his mouth, everywhere so he could remember how the skin of a reckless angel tasted. Cas slipped a hand under Dean’s shirt and looked up at him, asking for permission. The hunter nodded slightly, feeling the pain in his chest soften as Cas ran his cool fingers up and down his ribcage. The touch was so light, so tender, it made Dean look at the angel in awe.

Castiel brought Dean’s face closer and mimicked him, placing soft kisses along his cheekbones and down his neck, starting from the bottom of his chin to the hollow base of his neck, repeating it several times over, nipping at his skin softly.

“Cas,” Dean moaned, dragging his name out so it filled the car with veneration, his hands instinctively loosening the tie around the angel’s neck. He stopped Castiel, his breathing ragged and his pupils blown.

They locked eyes and the hunter leant forward once more, his hands on the angel’s face. “You disobeyed?” Dean breathed against his lips, biting and sucking as Castiel made quiet noises in the back of his throat.

“Yes,” Cas managed. The angel looked up at the hunter with doe-eyes, his chest rising and falling hard. For once in his life, he felt unworthy to be touched like this. He didn't feel like he deserved it. “Dean, stop.”

He released Castiel at once and quickly moved back, his hands placed on the edge of the car seat, gripping it tightly to stop him from touching the man before him.

“Dean, I will fall from grace. This isn’t supposed to happen; I’m an angel. I can’t do this, it-it’s wrong,” Castiel babbled, looking to the hunter with sorrowful eyes and a quivering bottom lip.

The hunter swallowed hard and seared a kiss onto Castiel’s mouth, hot and burning but with as much love as he could muster, “tell me to stop, baby. Just tell me and I will.”

The angel said nothing because he knew and so did Dean that this was long overdue.


End file.
